Beautiful Blackbird - Zambian Tale

In the well-wooded hills and valleys of Zambia in southern Africa live Ila-speaking people. Their tale brings a universal meaning of appreciating once heritage and discovering the beauty within.

A long time ago, the birds of Africa were all colors of the rainbow, except one Blackbird.

One day, Ringdove announced a bird festival in the forest. Birds flew in from all over.

When they all sat comfortably on the tree branches displaying all colors of the rainbow, Ringdove asked, “Who is the most beautiful bird?”

“Blackbird! Blackbird!” echoed around.

Ringdove asked Blackbird, “Would you color me black so I wouldn’t be so plain?”

“Color is only on the outside. What is inside is more important. But I will make a ring around your neck to go with your name,” responded Blackbird.

The next day, all birds gathered around watching Blackbird. He stirred the blackening brew in his stone bowl. Then he dipped his feather brush into the pot and brought it to Ringdove neck. With his free wing he spun Ringdove around, making a ring around his neck.

“Oh, he is just like Blackbird,” chirped all the birds. “Oh, can we have the black rings too?”

“I’ll mix the rest of my black roots for tomorrow,” responded Blackbird.

Birds rose with the first sun rays, chirping cheerfully, “Oh, it’s our turn.”

Blackbird dipped his feather brush into the pot and tapped out dots, small and large, around the necks and along the wings. He dipped his feather brush into the pot and stroke lines, short and long, around the necks and along the wings. With the last drop of black paint, he black-tapped the last small bird of the flock.

“Uh, what a small touch of black can do,” chirped the birds. “Uh, we look so grand.”

 

Source: Beautiful Blackbird by Ashley Bryan

The Sigismund Bell – Polish Legend

In the Old Town of Krakow up on a hill stands gloriously the Wawel Cathedral. Its tower holds one of the biggest bells in Europe; cast in 1520 by a famous bell-founder from Nuremberg, master Hans Behem. It was named after its patron Sigismund I, King of Poland, who commissioned it. The bell is so heavy that it requires 12 bell-ringers to swing it. It tolls only on special occasions. And this brings us to a legend of the Sigismund Bell.

In the early 16^th century, King Sigismund I ruled the Polish lands. He was a very successful monarch and a great patron of arts. It was his greatest wish to create such bell which would remind the people of the glory of Poland.

One day, as King listened to the songs and verses of his court poets accompanied by the lute, he felt an inspiration to create not only a bell, but a bell of such sound that would beat as one with the rhythm of the hearts of the Polish people.

The King confided in his favorite poet, telling him his greatest wish. The poet listened intently and promised to help the King.

Thus the poet accompanied the King on all his visits to the foundry. Together they admired the art of the famous bell-founder.

On one of such visits, when the bell was coming to its final appearance, the poet pulled one of the strings from his lute and threw it into the bell cast filled with liquid metal commenting, “This way the notes of the songs will forever ring in the sound of the bell, representing the hearts of its people.”

As a result, the bell was gifted with a sound pulsating with feeling thanks to the poet whose heart was filled with music. And the King’s further wish was to fulfil people’s wishes. Therefore, he granted the power of people’s wishes.

So it is said when a person with an honorable wish stands under the bell and touches its clapper, the dream will come true.

Source: Legendary Cracow. Tales Known and Unknown by Ewa Basiura

Reb Eisik’s Dream - Jewish Legend

Krakow, the cradle of Polish education and tolerance, is home to a Jewish quarter called Kuzmir. Over three hundred years ago, at the corner of two streets Izaaka and Jakuba a synagogue was built. It was founded by Isaac Jacobovitsh, a descendant of one of the richest merchant families in Poland at that time. He himself was the wealthiest Jewish merchant, banker and owner of numerous houses and stalls in the 17^th century Krakow. However, the legend describes him as a poor person who came to wealth after having found a treasure hidden in his garden.

A few centuries ago, in a Jewish quarter of Krakow lived a pious Jew by the name of Eisik. He didn’t have much and yet was a very grateful person praying to God day and night. He accepted his difficulty humbly.

One peaceful night, he had a very strange dream. He saw the most magnificent city with golden roofs and a stone bridge across a foamy river. A voice in the dream told him, “Go to this Bohemian city, called Prague, cross the bridge over the Veltava River. Once there you will hear some good news, which will change your life forever.”

In the morning, when Reb Eisik woke up, he wasn’t sure what to make out of his dream. It didn’t seem realistic to leave his wife and children and venture on such long journey with little money he had.

However, after two more nights with the same dream, Reb Eisik decided it was time to reveal it to his wife. “And how are you going to get there? We have no spare money for such extravagance.”

“I will walk,” responded Eisik.

He packed a bundle with food, hung it on a stick, and threw it over his right shoulder. After bidding his family farewell, he left.

The long and exhausting wanderings, at last, brought him to the city of his dreams. Seeing the golden roofs, he followed the sound of the foaming river, where he saw the same stone bridge. With his heart throbbing madly, he walked slowly over the bridge, admiring the Hradcany Castle situated on a hill. Upon reaching the end of the bridge, he was expecting to hear the voice any second. But the only thing he was hearing was the frothy river hitting against the boulders. 

With his sinking heart, he walked the bridge back and forth. But he didn’t get discourage as he trusted in God’s power and day after day he came back to the bridge. On the seventh day a man came up to him and asked, “Why do you keep crossing the bridge? Are you looking for something?”

Reb Eisik hesitated for a moment, but after seeing the gentle face of the older man, he told him about the dream.

The man laughed and said, “I once had a dream of some priceless treasure buried among the roots of an old pear-tree in Krakow, in the garden of a Jew called Eisik.”

Upon hearing those words, Reb Eisik tried very hard to suppress his smile. While telling about his dream, he didn’t tell the man where he was from and what his name was.

After saying his goodbye, he swiftly made his way back to Krakow. This time, the journey seemed less strenuous and much shorter, as the good news gave Eisik a lot of strength.

Upon his return home, Reb Eisik went straight to his garden and dug under the pear-tree. His wife seeing him as poor as he was before he left and now digging under an old tree was not sure if he was still of sound mind.

Nevertheless, it didn’t take long, when his spade made noise, such as hitting against a stone. He quickly removed the soil with his hands unveiling a huge metal coffer. He lifted its heavy lid and found a glistening treasure. All this gold and precious jewels made him the richest man in Krakow.

To thank God for his good fortunes, Reb Eisik erected a synagogue in his district, which was named after him and still can be viewed in Kuzmir.

 

Source: The Jews of Poland in Tale and Legend by Ewa Basiura

Note: Similar story, Kaatje’s Treasure (April post), is of an old woman having the same dream and traveling to Amsterdam, where an old man laughs at her dream and tells her his, which reveals treasure in her garden.

The Mitten - Ukrainian Folktale

Ukraine, a country of quite a size, stretches above the Black Sea in Eastern Europe. Its cold winters require warm gloves, which leads us to a story.

In a small village nestled in the country’s rolling hills lived a boy named Nicki with his grandma. One winter he asked his grandma for wool mittens as white as snow.

“If you drop one in the snow, you will not find it,” responded she. But the boy was persistent until the grandma agreed.

As soon as Nicki had his new mittens he ran outside to climb a leafless tree. He climbed and climbed and was almost at the top, when one of his mittens slipped to the ground. “I’ll sit here for a bit and pick the mitten on my way home,” thought the boy.

Meanwhile, a mole tunneling through the snow discovered the mitten. “It’s so warm and fuzzy. I’ll rest here for a bit.”

A snowshoe rabbit hopped his way toward the tree, when he noticed the mitten. He wiggled in. The mole was about to say that there was no more room, but seeing rabbit’s big kickers he simply moved over.

Next a hedgehog sniffing for food came across the mitten. Cold and tired, he decided to warm his body in the mitten. The mole and rabbit seeing the prickles, made the room without arguing.

As soon as the hedgehog was inside the mitten, a big owl attracted by the commotion on the ground lowered his flight. And of course, he wanted to go inside too. As the animals were about to protest, they saw the owl’s talons and let him in.

Up to now a badger, sleeping at the bottom of tree’s opening, woken up by the fuss outside approached the animals. As the animals thought that there was absolutely no more room, they saw the badger’s diggers and showed him the thumb.

It started snowing, when a fox ran looking for a warm place. Seeing warm mitten, it pushed its way in. Shining with its white teeth, the fox had no problem getting in.

A warm and fuzzy bear stumped its way toward the mitten. “I won’t be left out,” with those words he pushed his large body into the mitten. The mitten stretched and bulged, but nobody would argue with such large animals as bear.

A tiny meadow mouse spotted a large warm mitten. No bigger than an acorn, she made herself comfortable on top of the bear’s nose.

The mouse wiggled, tickling the bear with its whiskers.

The bear gave such a forceful sneeze that all animals flew out in all directions.

At the same time, the boy decided it was time to go back home. As he climbed down, the mitten flew up straight into his hand. Happy boy walked to the hut not making much out of a flying mitten a bit bigger than the original size.

Source: The Mitten by Jan Brett

Once a Mouse... - Ancient Indian Fable

India located in the middle of south Asia is a country rich in heritage with history reaching ancient times. And from such ancient times comes wisdom of this fable.

One day a solitary man sat under a tree shaded from scorching sun and thought about little and big. Suddenly a little mouse appeared as almost an answer to his thoughts.

In another moment a black crow lowered its flight ready to snatch the mouse.

The old man rushed tearing the mouse from the crow’s greedy beak.

At the hut, he fed the mouse with milk and grains.

A cat appeared greedy for milk and even a better catch of mouse. With his head and tail high above his body, he approached the hut.

The wise man standing aside, with its magic and prayers changed the mouse into a stout cat.

At night a dog barked in the forest scaring the cat.

In the morning, the wise man changed the cat into a big dog.

But not long after that, a hungry tiger appeared.

As the tiger leaped on the dog, the wise man changed the dog into a beautiful tiger.

All day long, the tiger prided himself among other animals.

The hermit seeing all that chided the beast, “Without me you still would be a little mouse, that is, if you were still alive.”

The offended tiger laid down hiding among high grass, “No one will tell me what to do.”

The wise man read the tiger’s thoughts and said, “You are ungrateful big tiger. Therefore you will go back to being a little mouse.”

And that’s what had happened. The big tiger was turned into a little mouse, which ran into the forest and was never seen again.

As for the wise man, he continued to dwell on little and big…

Source: Once a Mouse… by Marcia Brown

A Peasant Boy Who Became a Prince, Polish Legend

In north-western Poland stretches a region known as Greater Poland. In those lands in about 940 settled the first Christian ruler of Poland, Mieszko I. He gave the beginning to the first historical ruling Piast dynasty of Poland and is considered the first crowned King of Poland. But behind the history, there is also a legend about a peasant boy who became a prince.

Centuries ago, in the undisturbed forests, where bears, deer, moose, and boars roamed, settled a family of Piast. One day, their house became a bee hive with all the choirs being performed. The wife Rzepka (Zepka) scrubbed the floors inside the hut and wooden table and benches outside. She covered the table with white tablecloth and decorated with green twigs around. The shelves in the hut were filled with warm bread, big chunks of cheese, bowls of apples and nuts. Big barrels of beer and small barrels of honey filled the corners. The savory and sweet aromas traveled outside. Soon guest would be coming.

Rzepka looked at her son and thought to herself. He was just a tiny boy and now already reaching her shoulder. His light blond hair was reaching his shoulders. Today for the first time they would be cut. That’s a sign he was entering adulthood. He no longer would be under a care of his mother. Now he would be under a care of his father. He would be taught how to take care of land and provide food for family.

The first guests started arriving. Rzepka filled the table with meat, bread, cheese and all the goods prepared for the feast.

All guests, dressed up for the occasion, surrounded Piast and his son. The boy knelt on a white cloth spread on the ground under a shade of linden tree. The father took scissors handed by his wife and cut the first strand of his son’s hair. One by one, strands of hair fell to the ground. With the last strand hitting the ground the father spoke to his son, “I name you Ziemowit.”

After the Shearing tradition and naming the boy, the guests settled around the table and savored the delicious food. They ate, drank and praised the hostess.

Nobody had noticed when the sun settled behind the horizon. Now the moonlight and the fire were lighting the way, when two strangers appeared at the fence. “We’ve been traveling for days and we were turned away by many. We haven’t eaten for days. We’re hungry and tired. Can we rest at your place?”

“Where there is a guest, there is God,” said Piast and pointed with his hand toward the table.

Rzepka seeing crumbs of bread and cheese with drops of beer on the table rushed to the hut to fetch some food, but there was nothing left. She went back to fetch her husband and whispered, “There is no food left.”

Piast seated the guests and excused himself. They both went back to the hut. As they stepped inside, they became speechless. The shelves were bending with food and the barrels were full.

“I thought you said that there was no food. It looks like nothing was touched.” Piast looked at his wife in astonishment.

“I don’t how this food appear here. I just went to fetch you.”

They carried the food and beer outside as nothing had happened. The guests filled their bellies and asked, “May we also bless the child?”

“It will be my privilege,” answered Piast.

The two strangers stood on both sides of the boy. One of them made a sign of cross above his head and looked toward the sky and whispered something as saying thank you. Then he looked at the father and said, “You are a generous man and you will be rewarded for this through your descendants.” And the strangers disappeared.

And this is how the Piast dynasty started with a boy named Ziemowit, who became a prince.

How Snowshoe Hare Rescued the Sun - Arctic Tale

Between two continents of Asia and North America, specifically between two countries of Russia and U.S. stretches the Bering Strait. Across northern lands of Russia spreads the cold land known as Siberia. Its native people also known as the Yuit crossed the Bering Strait back and forth from Siberia to Alaska for centuries in their tough walrus-skin boats. The Yuit of Siberia shared their language, culture and stories with their Inuit relatives of Alaska. Here is one of those stories of Hare restoring light to the world.

Centuries ago, the underground caverns were infested with demons, who stole the Sun. They didn’t care if others were cold or couldn’t see without the sunrays. The day and night became the same. It was always dark.

The animals of the land, sea and air gathered together for a great council. The smart old Snowy Owl spoke first, “My friends, without the Sun our trees and flowers won’t bloom in the spring. The night animals won’t know when to rest and the day animals won’t know when to work. We need to rescue the Sun? Who will do this?”

A murmur spread around, then Raven spoke up. “I think we should send the strongest among us.” His eyes followed toward the bear.

“The Bear!” yelled the others in confirmation.

So the Bear set on his trip to rescue the Sun, but as soon as he got hungry and saw the berry bushes he forgot about his mission.

Days went by. Followed by weeks. The animals realized that the Bear forgot about the Sun. They met for the second council. Again Raven spoke up, “We should send the fastest among us.” And his eyes followed toward the Wolf.

“The Wolf!” cried the others in confirmation.

The Wolf set on his journey, but as soon as he got cold and lonely, he found a cozy den in which he snuggled and forgot about the Sun.

After a couple weeks without a sign of the Wolf, the animals assumed he forgot about the Sun. They had no choice, but to gather for the third council. As soon as the Raven was about to speak up, tiny Lemming cut in, “We should send Snowshoe Hare. He can see well at night and is not selfish.”

“Thank you,” responded the Snowshoe Hare and without another word, he left.

He traveled for days over the snowy plains and high dark mountains. At last he saw beams of light streaming from under the earth through a crevice in the mountain rock. He hopped over to the crack and peered in.

A ball of fire blazed in a stone cauldron and in the corner of the cavern the demons snorted.

Snowshoe Hare slipped through the crack, quietly padded over to the cauldron and knocked it over. The ball of fire rolled toward the opening of the cavern. He pushed it outside. As soon as the fire was gone, the coldness of the rocks woke up the demons, which chased the Hare.

Snowshoe Hare ran away as fast as he could, kicking the ball of fire in front of him. As fast as he was, the furious demons were even faster, catching up with him.

Just as the demons were about to grab him, Snowshoe Hare kicked the ball of the fire up into the sky. It broke into pieces. The biggest one flew high into the sky and became the Sun. A large chunk soared up and became the Moon. And all the small pieces zoomed up and became the Stars in the Milky Way.

The new Sun burned brighter and stronger sending the demons to their cavern and they have never again been seen above the ground.

Spring came and all the animals rejoiced praising the brave Snowshoe Hare who had rescued the Sun.

 

Source: How Snowshoe Hare Rescued the Sun by Emery & Durga Bernhard

The Shipwrecked Sailor - Egyptian Tale

On the continent of Africa, in its north east corner, lays a country of Egypt. It is full of mysterious pyramids, sphinx and hieroglyphs (a writing system composed of pictures of people, animals, plants, and objects). On one of those hieroglyphs from the 19^th century BC, found not so long ago, was written a story. It is a tale of a sailor who voyaged on the Red Sea (stretching along the shores of eastern Egypt) and of his experience which taught him that good comes out of misfortune.

A long time ago, a crew of 120 of the best and bravest sailors was put together on a mission to Nubia, which today is part of southern Egypt. In those lands vast mines were full of gold. They set sail for those riches. They sailed along the Red Sea until a great storm caught them. They were not afraid of a storm, but the deep rough sea swallowed them easily and quickly except one sailor.

His still body resting on a piece of driftwood was pushed to the shore by the now calmed waves. When he felt sand under his body, he lifted his head and saw the most beautiful paradise, full of fig trees, grapes, vegetables and abundance of fish. He ate until he was full. Then he built a fire and made an offering to the gods, thanking them for the safety.

After a quiet meal and offering, the ground suddenly trembled. He laid down on his knees curling up with his head close to knees. When the ground calmed down, he raised his head and saw a gigantic Serpent. It spoke in a loud voice, “Where are you from and why are you here?” The sailor was so terrified that he lost his tongue.

The Serpent sensing it added, “Do not worry. I won’t harm you.” And then the sailor gained his courage and told the story of his voyage.

“I know how you feel. I lived here with my sisters, brothers, and children. We lived peacefully and in harmony until a star fell from the sky and killed all except me.”

The sailor hearing the Serpent’s story wept for his own family.

“Don’t cry. You are safe here. And a day will come that you will be rescued by your men.” The Serpent spoke with such certainty, which made the sailor believe that it would happen.

In the following weeks and months, they lived together and became good friends.

One sunny day, when the sailor was atop a tree picking its fruits, he saw a ship in the far distance. He stood still as the ship was heading toward the shore. When it neared him, he then recognized it was an Egyptian ship.

He rushed to tell the news to the Serpent, but it already knew it, “Farewell my dear friend. You will be home soon with your family. And after your rejoicing time, I ask you of only one thing, speak well of me and establish my good name.”

The sailor received many goods from the Serpent including animals and precious things.

Upon reaching his homeland, he brought all those gifts to Pharaoh, who rewarded him with a fine house and appointed him a lieutenant.

What the sailor didn’t know was that the island which saved his life was the Island of Soul and his experience was edged in his heart.

 

Source: The Shipwrecked Sailor. An Egyptian Tale with Hieroglyphs by Tamara Bower

Lake Dadaj - Polish Legend

In north-eastern Poland stretches a region known for 2,000 lakes, namely Mazury (Masuria). This hilly land is connected with lakes, rivers and streams. At its heart spreads Lake Dadaj. There is a reason why this particular lake takes the center of the Mazurian region. It holds a legend, which connects a man with his heart.

A long time ago, at the edge of a lake stood a small hut. There lived a young man by the name of Chris. He was poor. He didn’t have any family or farm. During the summer he walked from one village to another in search of some work for exchange of food or some warm clothes for the winter time.

There were times, when he couldn’t find any work and in those times he sat on his old wooden fence and dreamed. Oh, how he could dream. In his dreams, he was rich and good-hearted, with a beautiful wife and house full of children. He dreamed of helping those in need. But as soon as a village girl passed by him, he thought to himself and who would want me. Then sadness and loneliness surrounded him.

One morning, as Chris stepped out of his hut into the first rays of the sun, he noticed an old man on a path walking toward him. The man had gray hair and long beard reaching almost his waist. His golden-colored shoes matched the color of his sack attached to his belt. His coat was of a dark violet color. Chris looked at the man and thought; He doesn’t look like a rich landlord or a poor beggar. He couldn’t figure out who the man was. Maybe he is a magician, he thought.

The young man wasn’t sure if he should invite the old man inside his poor hut or let him sit under a tree and give him cold water from a stream. He decided to wait and see what the man says.

To the surprise of Chris, the old man said, “I know you have a good heart and you wish for a wife.” Chris nodded with his head and the man continued, “You may marry my daughter and I will give you all you dreamed about, but you have to promise one thing that your heart will never change. You will always help those in need.”

“I promise,” whispered Chris.

The old man nodded in agreement and left without another word.

A few hours later, a large horse drawn-wagon filled with small and big chests packed with gold and other goods approached Chris’s hut. At the wagon’s front on a bench sat a beautiful woman with golden hair and big red lips smiling at Chris.

She jumped down and said, “I am Dadaj, the youngest daughter of the man, who promised you this morning to have your dreams come true. I will be your wife and best friend.”

Chris welcomed his future wife. With all the money she brought with her, he bought lots of farm land reaching next village. He built barns, bought animals to farm the land, and in the center of this all, he built a huge house for his future family and a small house for all those in need. Soon after a big wedding took place. All the people living in his village and all poor people from surrounding lands were invited.

The small house always buzzed with people. Good aromas were coming out the windows and doors throughout the whole day inviting the hungry. A doctor made daily visits, because there was always somebody needing doctor’s attention.

The word of good deed was spreading far and wide beyond the lands of Mazury. Hungry and sick made long walks to reach the good house of help. Everybody received warm dinner and a warm coat, and stayed as long as it was needed. Sick laid until they got well, weak recuperated until they gained their strength, homeless received roof over their heads and warm dinners and stayed until they were rested. Everybody who was leaving received a coin and a loaf of bread, but above all a friendship and good word.

A few years passed. Chris got used to his money and slowly was forgetting that he ever was poor. Meanwhile, Dadaj had born a healthy boy. Chris loved the child dearly and wanted to spend as much time with his family as possible. Uninvited guests were starting to irritate him. Those in need were not so welcomed anymore. Dadaj seeing all this was getting sadder with each day.

“Dear husband, you’re not keeping the promise you made to my father.” She spoke one day seeing a poor old couple leaving without a coin or a loaf of bread.

Chris waved his hand, answering carelessly. “They can come back tomorrow or day after tomorrow even better.” He was forgetting that those in need and hungry cannot wait.

Dadaj tried to remind her husband about his promise. “If you continue your carelessness you will lose what is most important to you.” But Chris wouldn’t listen. He visited inns and sang with musicians joyfully. He hunted big bears and deer, and was proud of his prey.

But it all came to an end at the beginning of fall. Early in the afternoon dark clouds covered the sky with lightning piercing them. Storm with huge strength and speed ripped the roof of Chris’s house. Heavy rain flooded his farmlands.

Quietly in the middle of this storm, appeared an old man. He sadly looked at his daughter and son-in-law, who were desperately trying to rescue the animals and save their belongings.

“Father, please help,” begged Dadaj. But the old man only pointed toward the lake with his head.

Crying Dadaj hugged her son and husband and left toward the lake.

When the storm calmed down, Chris comforted his son crying after his mother and took him to the lake looking for her.

“Dadaj! Dadaj!” yelled Chris many times and for many hours, but Dadaj was nowhere to be found.

“Dadaj! Dadaj!” those two words echoed for days. After a few weeks, he understood he lost his wife forever and his son lost his mother. Then he understood that he became poor again, because he lost the love of his wife, which was the most precious thing in his life. And he only had to keep his word.

From now on nothing made him happy. More often he was leaving his son in a care of his neighbors and wandering along the edges of the lake repeating, “Daaadaj… Daaadaj…”

Those who heard those words echoing by the lake, remembered the name and when the words where no longer to be heard, they named the lake Dadaj.

Krakow's Trumpeter - Polish Legend

In north-eastern Europe stretches the country of Poland and in its south-central lands stands its pearl, namely the city of Krakow. The Old Town of Krakow proudly displays the St. Mary’s Church with its tower. At this tower, a Trumpet Call echoes every hour on the hour, four times in succession in each of the four cardinal directions. However, the anthem is always ‘interrupted.’ The legend will explain.

Many centuries ago Poland was invaded by Mongols from Asia many times. It was known that whatever village they invaded, it was burned down to the ground. Whatever city they invaded, it was plundered and devastated. Only blood and tears were left behind.

One year, in 1241, the trumpeter from St. Mary’s Church could not sleep. Dark thoughts were occupying his mind, not letting him to fall asleep. It was still dark, when he raised his tired body from the straw mattress and climbed the squeaky steps of the tower. He looked through the small tower opening. Krakow’s citizens were still asleep. The moonlight’s last light was sliding down on the roofs of houses and churches. The peacefulness of the city made the trumpeter rethink his decision.

“Maybe I should try to rest my eyes and body one more time.” He sat on a small bench set against the round wall. The roughness and coldness of the stone wall and his restless mind wouldn’t allow him to go back to sleep. The sun was slowly lighting the streets of Krakow.

As he couldn’t sleep, he moved to the window and looked out. The fields beyond the city walls and gates were slowly showing its hilly shapes in the first light of day. But suddenly he froze. There were some shades moving along the hills. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. No, he was not mistaken. These were Tatars approaching the city.

Quickly, he put the horn to his lips, took the deepest possible breath and blew the air through the horn. The loud trumpet call pierced through the quiet city.

Suddenly, the lights appeared in all windows. The doors opened and people flocked out of the houses not sure what was happening. But as soon as they stepped onto the cobblestone alleys, they understood what was happening.

“Tatars!” echoed from all directions.

“To the walls!” The men rushed to the walls protecting the city. They grabbed the bows and arrows. The sky filled with zipping arrows coming from two opposite directions.

“To the church!” The women grabbed their children and rushed to the church. On their knees they prayed vigorously.

Meanwhile, the trumpeter continued the call, encouraging its citizens to fight forcefully. Buckets of hot water and heavy stones were being dropped down the walls onto the enemies. As Tatars approached the walls, they searched with their furious eyes for the trumpeter, who warned the city. Few of the Tatars spotted the trumpeter at the tower. They drew back the strings with arrows and released them towards the tower. The trumpet call ended suddenly.

A young man, who was carrying the buckets of hot water, heard the sudden stop and rushed to the tower. But it was too late. The arrow penetrated the trumpeter’s throat. He was dead and next to him laid his horn.

The trumpeter didn’t get to see the triumph over Tatars. He didn’t get to taste the victory, which he was part off.

To commemorate the input of the trumpeter, the city of Krakow plays its Trumpet Call with a sudden interruption.

Beautiful Shepherdess and Prince of Raciborz, Polish Folktale

On the south-western edges of Polish lands stands a town of Raciborz. There the Oder River meanders slowly through the town, surrounded by thick forests of Eastern Sudetes. There once lived a prince, who fell in love with a beautiful shepherdess. And this takes us to a legend.

A long time ago, in the wild unexplored mountains of southern Poland, a settlement was built by the Oder River. It was ruled by a young prince named Racibor. He was known for his courage and just ruling. The settlement was surrounded by lush meadows dotted with colorful flowers, which bordered with the thick dark forest.

One day, as prince was looking out the window at the peaceful meadows, he noticed a young shepherdess with a herd of sheep. Her skin was pale as the white daisies spread out across the meadows, her black hair matched the darkest coal, and her eyes reflected the greenest grass. When she started singing, her voice matched the singing of the sweetest nightingale.

The prince was enchanted by her appearance and voice. “You have the most magnificent voice!” declared Racibor.

The shy shepherdess thinking that she was alone with her herd in the meadows, got startled when she heard the prince. She quickly disappeared out of the prince’s view. But her curiosity brought her back to the same spot day after day, where the prince in quietness admired her beauty and singing.

One day, the shepherdess returned to the same spot, but the prince was not in his window. Sadness covered her face. But it was just for a moment, as she noticed the prince walking through the gates towards her, her face shined instantly.

“What is your name?” asked the prince.

“Ofka,” answered the shepherdess.

Racibor spent days admiring the beauty of the girl, which he was sure shined from inside out and her enchanting voice rang in his ears throughout the day and lulled him into sleep at night. He decided she was the girl he wanted to marry and he proposed to her in the meadows surrounded by herd of sheep as his witness. Ofka accepted to be his wife.

Meanwhile, on the edge of the forest settled an evil ghost. Everybody was afraid of him. Nobody dared to speak his name to avoid attracting him. It was said that during the day he had a human form, but during the night he looked like a monster spitting a fire. He destroyed cities, capturing people and making them work in his castle’s dungeons. He was greedy and liked stealing the jewels the most, the more sparkling the more attracted he was to it. He heard about Racibor’s rich collections of jewels and that’s what brought him here, where he settled in a grotto covered by the trees.

One night, he disguised himself under a human form wearing a large hood covering most of his face. At the castle’s grounds he overheard guards talking about the Ofka as the biggest jewel of Raciborz.

He waited for the settlement to quiet down completely. When all was quiet and the guards were snoozing, that’s when he sneaked into Ofka’s bedchamber and seized her. He took her into his big hands, resembling a bed with his body. The sleeping Ofka did not feel a difference. It was only in the morning when she realized that her bed was not soft, but it was hard and cold floor instead. She was not covered in soft warm feather covers, but instead with tattered rags.  

“Where am I,” her voice quivered.

“Ha ha ha,” echoed the laugh of the evil ghost.

At the castle, the panic spread across it when the chambermaids realized that Ofka was gone. But prince instantly knew what had happened to her, “Settle the horses and put the bells on their necks. The ghost will think it’s the sheep coming instead of the horses.”

The prince and soldiers galloped to the edge of the forest. They only slowed down near the grotto to let the bells ring a nice melody. Olfk constantly realized it was Racibor coming to rescue her.

The ghost heard the bells as well, but as predicted he thought these were sheep. “Ha ha ha, my delicious dinner is coming my way. And the cotton will bring me lots of money.” He moved a huge bolder, which he used to cover the grotto.

At the same time, the soldiers swiftly caught the ghost and dragged him to the swamps. The ghost was heavy and clumsy. So he drowned like a heavy stone. And never bothered anybody again.

Racibor and his soldiers freed Ofka and all the people imprisoned by the ghost. All the jewels found in the grotto were divided between the captive people, so they could start their new lives.

Shortly after, a big cheerful wedding took place and all the people were invited. The young couple lived long and happily and under their rule, the settlement grew into a prosperous town.

Pleasing All the World - Yiddish Folktale

On the continent of Africa, in its northern lands stretches a massive desert called Sahara. Sand dunes stretch as far as an eye can see in this barren land. The hot climate makes it hard for plants and animals to thrive in those hostile conditions. Nevertheless, camels’ humps create great insulation, helping them survive in hot climate. Therefore, they are a perfect mean of transportation through those lands. This brings us to a story of a father and a son traveling on a camel through the desert.

Once there was a father, who led a camel through the desert with his ten-year-old son. It was hot and the journey was long. The camel was loaded with trunks and to save him from carrying extra weight, both father and son walked along the animal. They were both tired and thirsty.

As their eyes followed the peaks of the dunes, they heard a voice, “How foolish to walk on foot, when you have the camel.” After a short pause the stranger added, “The animal was created to carry people as well as bags.”

The son looked at his old father and suggested, “Why don’t you mount the camel and I will follow on foot.” And that’s what they did.

Not long after, they encountered another traveler, who commented, “How can you allow your own child to suffer like this? His tender feet are cracked and about to bleed.”

The father felt ashamed and proposed to his son, “Why don’t you let your feet rest for a little bit, while I’ll follow now.” And that’s what they did.

But a while later, they met a third traveler, who cried, “A young strong child on a camel and his old tired father walking behind him. Where is the respect for the elders?”

The father looked at his son and said, “I guess we have no other choice but to mount the camel together.” And that’s what they did.

They hardly rested their feet, when a lamented voice reached their ears, “Have you no pity to overload the camel!”

The father and son quickly dismounted. The father said, “I thought we had no other option, but I guess there is one more. Now we have to carry the camel ourselves. And I’m pretty sure someone will come along and comment that it’s stupid. No matter what we do, we can’t please all the world.”

Source: Yiddish Folktales by Pantheon

The Happy Man - Croatian Folktale

The mountainous country of Croatia lies at the southern center of Europe, with its western border brushing in the Adriatic Sea. The spectacular blue colors of the sea are dotted with fish nets. Seen from above, they create black spots as on a Dalmatian dog. Therefore, the coast is called the Dalmatian coast. The remarkable scenery, incredible atmosphere and amazing people bring a story of the Happy Man.

A long time ago, on one of the mountain peaks of Croatia was perched a magnificent castle of white walls gleaming against the dark green slopes. In this castle lived a king who grew old and sick. He felt as death was nearing and yet he wanted to live forever. He called for all the best doctors from his lands first. As there was no cure, he then called for the best doctors from faraway lands.

A wise man from unknown land send a message to the king, “Your Majesty must find a man who wants for nothing in this world. Take his shirt and put it on and this will cure Your Majesty.”

The counselors searched the near and far lands. They found many rich and happy men, but all of them still lacked something. They all wanted something more.

The search continued to no avail and tired counselors rested at many city inns. But one night they didn’t make it quite to the city. So they stayed at a country inn, where they encountered a very cheery man. He seemed quite poor in his patched jacket and worn out trousers and yet he boasted loudly, “I want for nothing in this world!”

The counselors ordered large mugs of ale and invited the cheery man to join them. “You seem to be quite content with what you have,” said one of the counselors.

“I am happy with what I have and have no need for more,” responded the cheery man, raising his mug of ale and taking a sip.

Now the counselors were sure they had found the man they’ve been looking for. “But our king could make you rich beyond your dreams, if only you could visit him.”

This statement startled the cheery man, “Why would I want to travel to some distant lands? I’m happy where I am.”

The counselors tried to convince the man, but nothing would change his mind. They saw no other option as to make him drunk and take him while he was sleeping. And that’s what they did.

Upon arriving at the castle, they announced, “Your Majesty we have found a man who is happy and who wants nothing more.”

“What are you waiting for?” Retorted agitated King. “Take off his shirt!”

As fast as they could, they tore off the man’s patched jacket, but to their surprise the man had only vest underneath. “Oh Your Majesty,” stammered one of the counselors, “It seems as he has no shirt.”

At that moment, the King gave a long, pitiful groan and died at last. Only then did his counselors understand the words of the wise man. For no man in all the world has everything he wants, and even kings cannot live forever.

 

Source: Hidden Tales from Eastern Europe by Antonia Barber